Chapter 157: Diary, Entry Two

Chapter 157: Chapter 157: Diary, Entry Two

Chapter 157: Diary, Entry Two

It was already close to ten in the morning when Cyrus Calder finally decided he was going back to bed.

He had barely turned toward the bedroom when someone knocked on his apartment door.

Before Cyrus could ask who it was, Daphne Whitlock’s voice came from the hallway.

"You were not home last night, were you?"

Cyrus opened the door only far enough to speak comfortably.

"Something came up while I was working."

His answer was calm enough that Daphne could not hear anything suspicious in it.

She looked at him with quiet concern.

"Your memory has already been giving you trouble. When you disappear overnight and I cannot reach you, I worry that something happened."

Cyrus felt a small amount of warmth at the seriousness in her voice.

More importantly, he felt reassured.

This was exactly how a useful safeguard should behave.

Daphne was voluntarily paying attention to whether he came home, whether his memory remained stable, and whether something happened while he was alone.

That was valuable.

Looking at the sincerity on her face, Cyrus even felt a brief flicker of guilt.

Then he remembered everything Daphne had already done to him.

The guilt disappeared.

There was nothing unreasonable about defending himself after someone else crossed the line first.

He had only used a few small tricks.

"Thank you for worrying about me, but everything is fine now."

Daphne studied him for another moment before nodding.

Cyrus suddenly remembered something.

"My work has been paying pretty well lately. Do you want me to pay next month’s rent early?"

Daphne paused.

Her eyes lowered slightly.

"You do not need to worry about the rent right now."

Cyrus had expected that answer.

"I appreciate that."

He did not push.

The question had only been a small test.

Daphne had refused exactly as he predicted.

From the way she looked, she did not seem to realize he was checking how far her willingness to care for him had progressed.

Cyrus told her he needed more sleep, then closed the door.

This time, he also slid the security chain into place.

Daphne remained in the hallway.

Her eyes rested on the closed door.

If she truly wanted to enter tonight, the chain was not an impossible obstacle.

That was not the problem.

The problem was what happened afterward.

Cyrus had stayed away all night.

He had also casually mentioned having enough money to pay rent early.

Those two details reminded Daphne of something important.

Cyrus had a job.

He had income.

He now had savings.

Even if she possessed information that could pressure him emotionally, most of that leverage remained verbal.

If she pushed too hard, Cyrus could simply decide that living beside her was no longer worth the trouble.

Moving out would be perfectly reasonable.

Daphne’s original plan had been born from anger.

Read the diary, confront him immediately, force him to explain everything, and enjoy watching his careful little calculations fall apart.

It would have been satisfying.

For one night.

Then what?

If Cyrus became frightened enough to leave, she would lose the easiest access she had to him.

That would be foolish.

Daphne stared at the door for several more seconds.

She needed to think further ahead.

For now, staying close and observing him would be safer.

She could watch whether the memory loss truly continued.

She could see how much of the diary was manipulation and how much was genuine fear.

If she intended to catch something valuable, rushing the line would only scare it away.

Daphne turned and returned to her apartment.

Inside Cyrus’s much cooler bedroom, none of those calculations concerned him.

He climbed into bed and slept until nearly three in the afternoon.

With no reason to leave on Saturday, remaining home also meant he could save one dose of his suppressants.

That alone improved the day.

After waking, Cyrus took a warm shower.

He looked down at the faint marks still visible on his pale skin.

Most of what had been left from Friday night had already faded after several hours of Frostborn recovery.

Only light traces remained.

They were more noticeable than they should have been simply because his skin was so pale.

Cyrus stared at them without changing expression.

Internally, he complained about Rhea for several seconds.

Next time, he would prefer to be the person holding control of the situation.

Being on the other side had gone badly enough.

He dressed and settled onto his small couch with the new phone Helena had given him.

The device was still absurdly good compared with his old one.

Cyrus had barely explored half its functions.

Today, however, food delivery apps were more interesting.

He scrolled through page after page of restaurants.

Human society really had become impressive.

Almost anything could be delivered to his door.

Now that he had a little money, Cyrus felt he deserved something better than convenience-store meals.

Then he looked at the prices.

Something better was expensive.

Cyrus reconsidered.

Good food was nice.

Good value was nicer.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was holding a large pizza and feeling very satisfied with his financial judgment.

The first few slices reinforced that confidence.

The consequences began later.

By evening, Cyrus realized he might have made a mistake.

By Sunday morning, he knew he had made a mistake.

The supposedly economical pizza left a memorable mark on almost the entire weekend.

Cyrus spent Saturday night and most of Sunday making repeated trips to the bathroom.

The experience taught him that Frostborn biology offered no special protection against bad food decisions.

On Sunday evening, he finally sat down with the dinner Daphne brought over.

Compared with the pizza, the familiar home-cooked meal seemed almost sacred.

Cyrus ate slowly and reflected on the dangers hidden inside human civilization.

Not every threat wore a beautiful face.

Some arrived in cardboard boxes.

After dinner, Cyrus opened his diary.

As usual, he checked the recent entries first.

Nothing seemed inconsistent.

His memory still matched what he had recorded.

Eventually, he reached the note he had written to his future self several days earlier.

To my future self, I am proud of you. I believe you will achieve even greater success from here.

Cyrus stared at the inspirational message.

He was exhausted from an entire day of stomach trouble.

The difference between the optimism on the page and his current condition annoyed him.

He picked up the pen and wrote underneath it.

"To my past self, I ate several slices of pizza today and spent the entire day running to the bathroom."

Cyrus had barely finished the sentence when his expression changed.

He put the pen down quickly.

Then he stood and headed toward the bathroom again.

Monday morning arrived with Cyrus looking noticeably less enthusiastic about life.

He opened the suppressant package and removed five pills.

After taking what he needed to settle the biological reactions that had built up over the weekend, he stared at the remaining medication with a complicated expression.

Five pills.

That was money disappearing directly into his body.

Fortunately, his wallet was healthier than it had been a few weeks ago.

Cyrus chose not to calculate the exact cost.

He put the medication back into the lower cabinet and left for school.

On the walk to St. Alder Academy, he yawned several times.

People still looked at him more often now that he had stopped hiding his appearance.

Cyrus ignored them.

Poor sleep made even the improved attention feel more tedious than usual.

Apparently Frostborn could survive unusual temperatures, strange biological reactions, and years of captivity, but a bad stomach could still ruin a weekend.

At least Sunday had given him enough time to recover.

By Monday morning, the worst had passed.

Cyrus entered senior advisory three.

Owen Keats greeted him almost immediately.

"Morning, Cyrus. You look tired today."

Cyrus gave him a small nod.

"I did not sleep very well."

Owen accepted the explanation without asking for details.

Cyrus had always been quiet.

Even before the haircut, Owen already knew him as someone who rarely approached people first.

In that sense, Cyrus and Audra seemed vaguely similar.

Both could appear cold from a distance.

Both attracted attention without deliberately seeking it.

Still, Owen felt there was a difference between them that he could never describe properly.

Cyrus had changed his appearance, but he had not suddenly become a different person.

That made talking to him feel the same as before.

Faye Larkin heard the exchange from the seat directly in front of Cyrus.

She had worried that his newly revealed appearance would transform the back corner of the classroom into a crowded social area.

That had not happened.

Students had certainly approached him more often.

Yet over the past several days, Cyrus had repeatedly shifted those conversations farther behind Faye’s desk instead of allowing people to cluster around her.

She did not know whether he did it intentionally.

Maybe he simply preferred standing near the back wall.

Still, the result was the same.

Faye had not been forced into the center of unwanted attention.

She silently appreciated that.

Monday classes began soon afterward.

By the first break, students had scattered into their usual small conversations.

The back corner still contained one of the most noticeable boys in the room, but Cyrus made no effort to turn that attention into anything larger.

He reached into his desk and pulled out the comic Faye had lent him.

He had finally finished it over the weekend.

Cyrus leaned forward slightly.

"Faye, can I give this back to you?"

Faye turned in her seat.

Her eyes were partly hidden as usual, but Cyrus could see enough to notice the quiet question in them.

He held out the book.

A faint smile touched his expression.

Faye looked at it, then at him.

For some reason, she moved her attention away again almost immediately.

She accepted the comic with both hands.

The movement in the corner was small enough that few classmates noticed.

Cyrus continued in the same calm voice.

"Thank you for lending it to me. That comic really was as good as you said."